If There Were the Sound of Water
by Kvetching Canoodle
Summary: "The first time Dean sees her, she's running barefoot down the dusty New Jersey street, dry dirt rising from the ground, turning the end of her white dress a light brown." OC. No pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I wrote this way, way before the latest episode came out. Hell, I haven't even watched it yet since I have to wait for a link to go up online (yay college for interrupting my television viewing opportunities). Also, read the rest.

Anyway! This idea came about because they use gods all the time but tend to show them as more malicious with the necessity of human sacrifice. I have a particular love of Greek Mythology, and though human sacrifice was there, it wasn't common and rarely used for major deities. More often than not it was animal sacrifices. Then I watched "Time After Time" and, well, the idea of a god just sort of settling down and having kids happened. Hence, this character who has been sitting around forever for a novel that I never ended up writing.

Ahead of time, _yes _she does have abilities different than a normal human, but that doesn't make her any better or any more competent than anyone else. If anything, it makes her weaker. Sorry for the ramble, I just feel better knowing I got it out of the way. I seriously hate overpowered characters.

First chapter (prologue) is pre-series with just her and Dean. After it's basically going to be a pick and choose of the episodes from different seasons in order.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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**Prologue**

The first time Dean sees her, she's running barefoot down the dusty New Jersey street, dry dirt rising from the ground, turning the end of her white dress a light brown. Her hair whips around her face, the orange color bright from the sunlight. There's blood trailing down her leg from some point hidden by her skirt. He's sitting on the wooden guardrail, waiting for Dad to come back. The girl comes out of nowhere, all flurrying white and splattered with blood and a type of speed that only comes from adrenaline. For a moment, he doesn't know how to react.

Then the man comes around the blind turn, the sun reflecting pure black instead of eyes, and Dean's gun in out, finger pulling the trigger before he even has a chance to think.

Of course, the bullet doesn't kill it, but it distracts it. The sound of the gunshot catches the attention of the girl, who turns her head. The demon growls, switching its focus onto him. He shoots it in the knee and takes off, knowing that he isn't really being much of a help here.

"There's an abandoned church!" he shouts, seeing that it's slowed down. "Head there!"

He twists again, shooting it in the head. Dad's going to kill him; if they manage to exorcise this bastard, he's dead. Dean doesn't have much of a head start, but it's enough.

Or, that is, until it isn't. The demon gets a grip on the back of the jacket he really shouldn't be wearing in his weather and yanks him backwards. He turns again, shooting the demon in the chin, but by this point it's got him good. The force of the bullet causes it to stumble back as he pulls himself in the opposite direction. The momentum makes him lose his balance and the demon recovers first, lashing out, and -

The girl tackles it to the ground, the force built up from the run enough to knock over a body twice her size. He grabs the flask of holy water from his pocket but it explodes in his hand, splashing all over the two bodies on the ground. Suddenly she's saying something in a language he doesn't understand because it's not Latin and it's not English and it _wails_, shoving her off. Dean catches her and the demon smokes out, disappearing into the air. Silence hits, the body stills, and he can feel the redhead struggling to breathe against his chest. Somewhere off the distance a dog barks. The holy water turns the ground around the corpse to mud.

As the gravity of what just happened starts to set in, he says, "What the hell were you trying to do?"

"Exorcism in Ancient Greek." The words come out in a gasp. "Thanks for giving me -"

Before she can finish, the sound of a rumbling engine comes from behind the blind turn. She looks up at him, pupils blown so wide that he can't tell the color of her eyes. His "son of a bitch" overlaps her "fuck." They spare a short glance at each other, turn around, and scramble somewhat frantically over the wooden guardrail and into the apple orchard, ignoring the _private property _sign. The car comes around the corner just as they get out of sight, followed by the sound of a door opening and a grown man screaming. Dean hates killing actual people.

They're far enough away that they can't be seen or heard from the street and the girl bends over, hands on her knees and whole body shaking. His holy water may have somehow exploded, but he still has a normal bottle and he hands it over. "Here," he says, holding it out to her. She accepts it, getting out a thanks. He's impatient, but knows he has to wait for her to recover at least a little before he can get answers.

This happens surprisingly quickly. "Thanks for the water," she says, straightening herself. Sweat glues her hair and dress to her skin and there's blood down her side that was earlier facing away from him. The mark is growing; she uses her hand to pressure it. She adds, "And for giving me time for an exor - oh _god_." Her leg stops supporting her and she falls back against a tree, other hand pressing down on that injury too. "Okay, adrenaline's wearing off now."

Experience has taught him to be suspicious, but he's so baffled by this whole situation that he's having trouble remembering that. "Is there a hospital around here?" he asks, taking out his phone, debating whether or not to call Dad.

"It's rural New Jersey," she says like that's supposed to be an answer. "Not for another four or - wow, right, definitely need stitches."

Dean can stitch up pretty well but he has no supplies on him and this is just some random chick. A random chick who happens to know an exorcism in Ancient Greek and tackled a demon. He'd call her a hunter, but doubts she is one considering that the way she's dressed leaves her completely defenseless. "Where's your house?" he says, knowing that whoever she is, he can't in all good conscience just drop her here.

She makes a face that means they need to get her out of here. Soon. "Motel's across the road and about five miles west." Sirens sound off in the distance. "Fucking hell, _seriously_?"

He grabs her by the elbow and starts leading her in the direction of the one he and Dad are staying at. "Mine's this way," he says and she's definitely not moving as fast as before, stumbling along. He glances down and sees the trail of blood she's leaving, not all which seem to come from her leg and side. There are bloody footprints too. Awesome. He tells her, "Fastest way to do this is to carry you."

"Don't care," she answers and he bends down, slipping one arm behind her knees and the other around her shoulders. She's not as light as she looks, though that isn't saying much. From the feel of it, this is all muscle weight. If she's a hunter, she's not a very smart one. "Christ, what's wrong with my feet?"

Moving is easier now and the way the girl is holding herself stops the blood from leaking to the ground. His shirt isn't as lucky. "You ran down a road and through an apple orchard without shoes," he says dryly. "Brilliant decision there, sweetheart."

The girl scowls. "Dick," she says. "You think I meant for this to happen? Running on damaged feet is faster than running in flip-flops. Trust me."

Now he can't hear the sirens, though he doesn't know if that's because he's too far away or if they're off. Their trail's going to be pretty obvious for the first few feet, which means he and Dad are going to have to relocate fast. Not that it matters much - if everything goes as planned, that ghost is going to be burned by tonight.

"Flip-flops," he repeats in disbelief. She winches as he adjusts her in his arms, but doesn't complain. "You obviously know about this shit, and you were wearing flip-flops."

"I didn't know there was a demon that'd be coming after me," she says defensively. "There's a ghost, sure, but that's the other side of town and another hunter is already taking care of it. An older guy. Your partner?"

The apple orchard is ending, which means the hotel is only a few streets away. Technically he's supposed to be waiting on that patch of road back there for Dad before he comes back but now that there's a dead body and cop cars there, he doesn't have much of a choice. He hates_, hates_, disobeying orders but he's not seeing a way around it this time and it just wouldn't sit right, leaving this girl alone in this state even if she is an idiot. "My dad," he says. "Is there anyone I can call?"_  
_

"M'on my own," she answers, words slightly slurred together now. She's overheating, which means she should probably shower too, or at least to clean her injures. How does he always end up in these situations? _Dad _never seems to and Sam -

"Mind me stitching you up or do you want to go to the hospital?" he asks, words coming out quicker than he intended, though the girl seems too whacked out to notice.

She blinks up at him as if trying to get her barrings. "No hospital," she says like all hunters. "You aren't some pervert, right?"

Little late to be asking that, he thinks. "No," he says, "but I'm not afraid of women either."

"Since you didn't react to an exorcism, I'm going under the assumption that you aren't a demon," she says, individual syllables starting to disappear. "God, this hurts."

A little boy bicycles by and openly stares. Dean smiles, which seems to throw a kid off and he continues. Hopefully he'll just think she's his girlfriend or something. "You didn't react to holy water, so same here," he says, the motel coming into sight. "Okay, almost there."

She makes a small noise of affirmative against his shirt. Her hair tickles his neck. Thankfully this is one of those motels where the doors lead directly out to a street so he won't have to walk past check-in. The pool's around back, too. He really lucked out. "This is going to hurt," he says, "but put you hands around my neck and hold yourself up. I need to get the key."

Without complaining she follows directions, though he doesn't miss the shutter. Unlocking the door takes all of two seconds and inside is cool from the actually working air conditioning. He heads straight for the bathroom. "Have anything for me to wear?" she asks, still looking a little dazed. Her blood loss isn't severe enough that taking a shower will be a risk. He puts her down and she stands, leaning against the sink. His shirt is ruined, but he's had worse.

"I'll get you one of my shirts," he answers. She's roughly a whole foot shorter than him, so that should cover her enough. At least he was telling the truth when he said he isn't afraid of women; she'll have to show some skin if she wants to be stitched up. "Take a quick shower. I'll bring it in when I hear the water running."

She smiles gratefully and gets out a thank you before he leaves, shutting the door behind him. As he goes about finding a long enough shirt, he calls his dad. Odds are he's still hunting because it goes straight to voicemail. He leaves a quick message explaining the situation, apologizing for not staying put and making sure to emphasis the dead body and the fact that the girl isn't a demon but a hunter. He knows Dad will be pissed but there's not much he can do about it. Naturally the first time in two months that he's hunting with his dad and _not _doing anything is the one time he's stuck with some girl practically bleeding to death. He puts a long shirt in the bathroom as promised before leaving, stripping and changing himself. The first aid kit is already on the bed.

In another situation, she might've been the type of girl he'd sleep with, he thinks when she emerges, his shirt sliding off one shoulder and short hair mussed up from what's probably fingertips. Now that she's clean he can see through the baggy clothes make her seem completely shapeless. Her pupils have gone down enough that her eyes are a blue-green color like Victoria, the first girl he ever dated for a whole three months. He holds out painkillers and water and she sits down next to him.

"Thanks," she says again and knocks back the pills. After, she adds, "You sure you're good with this?"

"I've done this like a thousand times," he says. "Pull up the shirt."

She does as ordered, slipping it up far enough for him to have access to the cut. It's still bleeding, but not at the rate it was before. It's definitely a knife mark too. "I'm Noel," she says as he makes the first stitch, the name followed by an intake. Despite the whole flip-flop thing that labels her as probably a rookie, she has a pretty high pain tolerance.

"Dean," he answers, trying to get this done quick. It isn't really all that big, but it's situated in a place that she couldn't have reached on her own. "So what were you doing anyway?"

"Date," she says, a little breathless. "I've been going nonstop, found out someone here already had the job and met this guy. Probably thinks I stood him up."

Oh, great. At least she doesn't seem all torn up about it because that's the last thing he's willing to deal with. "You went on a date with no weapons of any kind?" he says and she scowls.

"It was by the lake," she says, "so I would've been fine." He pauses, looking at her oddly. "Long story. You done?"

He wants to ask, but let's it drop for now. Those painkillers will kick in soon and she'll get loopy. Easier to get information out of her then. "Done with that side," he tells her. "Let me see you leg. We'll figure out the feet - oh." Instead of a cut, the area by her knee is badly scrapped up. Not deep enough for stitches, but enough to hurt. "How the hell you'd manage that one?"

As he hands her gauze and medical tape to finish up with the stitched are herself, she says, "There's a reason I switched from flip-flops. I skidded. Isn't bad, obviously, but asphalt is hot when it's ninety degrees outside."

At Uncle Bobby's, he'd fallen off a bike once and did the same thing. That was during the spring, though, and he can imagine that it's worse in this weather. Even on normal days, the humidity and heat of a New Jersey summer is bad enough. He puts gauze down first, then wraps it. "Your feet are all torn up, so we'll have to take care of that too."

"I got the rocks and stuff out, washed it out with soap." Her feet are small, it turns out, like a little kid's and they aren't as messed up as he thought, already done bleeding. He bandages them up anyway and she drops the shirt so it's covering her again. The air condition rattles loudly. Noel says, "I'll buy you another kit. It's the least I can do."

He quirks a brow, looking up at her. Her pupils are wide again, which means the drugs have kicked in. "You have money?" he says, glancing at her dress on the nightstand. It doesn't look like it has pockets.

She just smiles awkwardly and reaches into the shirt. "I'm a girl," she answers, holding out two twenties. "Here. That should cover it."

Even though forty is a little much, he accepts it all anyway. No way is he turning down free money. Impalas aren't exactly light with gas. "So how'd you get in the business?" he asks, not caring that it's a personal question.

"A hunter killed my dad."

He pauses. "_What?_"

She doesn't seem as okay right now, so touchy subject. "Yeah," she says. "It was a few years ago. Started out as a revenge thing, but I picked stuff up as I went along, started killing ghosts and ghouls and all that good stuff and decided that if I run into the guy, I run into him. Now that I know how to fight this, I can't exactly ignore it. I'm not the type to ignore people dying."

That's a new one, getting into the business to kill another hunter. Usually it has to do with - that could be a problem. "Uh," he says, "you _are _human, right?"

Her cheeks flush, which is surprising. He hadn't know she had enough blood for that. Her hair's already drying, frizzing from the humidity. "I'm, um -" She pauses and he knows that if it weren't for the drugs and damaged feet, she'd be out of here by now. "Promise not kill me?"

His hand goes to his gun, the one with the silver bullets. "Depends," he answers, now on high alert.

"I'm kind of - well, I guess you could say," she starts before stopping again, focusing on her hands. His shirt slides further down one shoulder. "You know who Poseidon is, right?" He's up so fast he barely registers moving, gun trained to her forehead. "Hey, it's not like that!"

"Then what is it like?"

She takes a deep breath and looks up at him, eyes still too whacked out for her to be thinking straight. It's not right, drugging a girl for answers but he _had _stitched her up, so she owned him that. And now he finds out she isn't even fully human? Real good decision there, he thinks. "My dad never killed anyone," she says. "No human sacrifices or anything. He and my mom were actually married and everything. I'm a demigod, sort of. He was bitter about the whole losing power thing but it wasn't - well. I'm a good kid. He was the best dad ever. Besides, I'm basically human. I can just control water. And breathe underwater and all that. I'm not as strong as I would've been if I'd been born back then. I'm hunter like you, but with pretty much an endless amount of holy water."

Well, that explains why his exploded. She seems to be telling the truth, but he doesn't lower the gun. "Then why'd the hunter kill your dad?" he asks, having a hard time believing that some god would just settle down with a human wife and have a kid. "Must've done something."

Her hands ball up at fists at her side. "Because most hunters see everything in black and white," she snaps, "and for the most part that's true. But my dad wasn't some monster. Hell, he had a job at the shipping yard and made me pancakes most Sunday mornings. Made sure I did my homework. Not that anything like that matters. I mean, hey, I'll admit it - I'm pretty quick to pull the trigger now too but I'd never do that to anything in front of their kid."

He lowers the gun. Just a bit. He's always had good instincts and maybe he's too fast to trust her but he knows from personal experience that not all of the old gods are bad. They weren't like monsters or demons. Most were just so bitter they took it out on humanity but Dionysus saved their asses once and maybe she has a point. "How long ago?" he says because she seems awfully calm about this.

"A little over four years ago," she says. "I was fifteen. Do you still want to kill me?"

Jesus Christ, she's nineteen. That's younger than Sammy. His gun goes to his side, but he doesn't put it down. Everything about her screams human in a way that he hasn't even seen with shapeshifters before. Besides, demigods are still half human and can die like any human can from just about anything. And she obviously isn't all powerful, either, considering how much she fucked herself over and didn't pay attention to her damn feet. "You didn't answer my question," he says tensely. "How'd the hunter find out?"

She looks down again, away, and that's enough of an answer right there. "We got into an argument," she answers. "Between the two of us, we ruptured a water tank and basically exploded the ocean. No one got hurt but two things at once like that doesn't happen without a reason, you know? So the guy came looking. I haven't seem him since, but I've met other hunters. Hunted with other hunters. Not everyone's a dick."

"I know a lot of hunters," he says. "Who else?"

"You know Bobby Singer and Rufus?" she says, and surprise rockets up his spine. "I got into some trouble in South Dakota with, um, a Celtic goddess actually. She wanted to kill me for being, you know, _me_, and they saved my ass. I've hunted with them a few times after Bobby realized convincing me to stop was useless. Or, at least until their falling out. And - what is it? You know them?"

His mind's whirring on overdrive. "_Bobby Singer_?" he says. "Hell, yeah, I -"

Her eyes go wide. "_You're _Dean Winchester, aren't you?" she says, smile suddenly jumping back onto her face despite the gun. "Oh my god, seriously?"

"What?"

"He mentioned you!" she answers. "I mean, it was just once, but he said I wasn't the only idiot kid he's worked with but at least I had more patience than Sam and Dean Winchester."

Bobby. Bobby Singer. He puts his gun down and sits on the bed across from her. If Bobby hadn't killed her, then he could trust her. Even though he and Dad had that falling out and they hadn't talked in years, he still remembers all those weeks spent at the man's house, playing catch and learning how to track. "Are there any other demons after you?" he asks and Noel shakes her head. Noel. Noel the Greek demigod. What the hell? "Okay, then. We should get you back to your place. Skip town immediately, feel free to keep the shirt."

She doesn't question him. Smart kid. "I can't exactly walk," she says.

"C'mon, I'll bring you," he says, standing and holding out his hand to her, pulling her up. "We'll hot wire a car."

Thankfully she seems unfazed by that too. "Thanks," she says again, obviously relieved. "I seriously thought you were going to kill me."

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Me too."

The car ride to other end of town is silent and Dad doesn't call. When they reach her motel (and, now that he thinks about it, it's kind of weird that a place this small actually has two), she takes his cell phone without permission and adds her number. "I know I seem like an idiot," she says, "but all things considered, I'm actually good. If you ever end up needing help, here's my information."

It's a Jersey area code. Her full name is Noel Charming, which sounds stupid. As she leaves, he agrees and thinks that he won't. It's bad enough letting her go.

That smile gets burned into his memory anyway.

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Sorry for all the exposition, but there's going to be a year and a half gap between this and Dean would've learned everything by then anyway. Also this story's been sitting around since before season eight came out. I seriously hope this doesn't conflict too badly with the new episode that I only know bits and pieces of because of Tumblr.

At the moment I have no ideas for pairings with her or two canon characters. If you want any in specific, just vote.

Also, please, please, please review. They're excellent motivation. I have the first few chapters written (they're in chronological order of the actual series, though not every episode will be used) but originally didn't have the drive to post it. If no one reads this, I'll just feel silly.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, people actually liked this. I'm surprised. Truly, genuinely, surprised.

Also, guys, I'm mildly dyslexic. If I make a mistake here and there, cut me some slack.

Disclaimer: don't own anything you recognize.

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Dean waits until they're a good hour into the drive to break the news, and Sam thinks this is incredibly unfair.

"What the fuck, man?" he says, staring at his brother and trying to keep his temper in check. "You made it sound like you were alone on this one!"

"Would you have come if I told you?" Dean answers. "I mean, c'mon, Sam, you gotta understand. This is a family thing."

His fingers twitch. "Then why's some random chick coming?" he asks, about ready to tell him to turn around and take him back to Stanford. If he wasn't so conflicted over the matter of _holy fuck, I get my brother back _and _I said I was out of this for good, what the hell _he probably would've already. _  
_

Awkward-seeming now, Dean fidgets in his seat, speeding even more than usual. "I'm twenty-six," he says. "I go on a lot of hunts alone. Noel's, uh, sort of my unofficial hunting partner. The girl's good." Before Sam can cut in, he adds, "_But__, _that doesn't mean she's family and this is Dad we're talking about. Something's wrong. I can feel it."

"You're unbelievable." His arms are crossed like when he was a kid, and this petulant display of irritation isn't something he does in school. Barely an hour and he's already regressing to his old life. "That's - you should've at least told me!"

"Would you have come if I did?" No, no he wouldn't, so Dean has a point, but that doesn't mean he should've lied. "Besides, I need you on this one. She's helping out, sure, but Dad kind of scares her. Moment there's a chance of the two of them being anywhere near each other, she's heads out and waits for my next call."

This whole new set of information is so mindbogglingly un-Dean-like that Sam isn't sure what to make of it. "You're hunting with someone who's afraid of Dad," he says, and for his brother that's practically breaking orders. "How'd you even end up with that?"

His brother answers, "Look, it's a long story. I met her about a year and a half ago. She needed stitches, so I patched her up and she gave me her number." Even someone who doesn't know Dean as well as Sam does would be able to tell there's more than that. "About two weeks later I hit a tough spot on a gig in Cape Cod and gave her a call."

"You asked for help? Fuck, Dean, do you have a thing for her or something?"

Dean rolls his eyes and maybe the answer to that was obvious. His brother isn't the type to hide that. "We're just friends," he says. "Seriously. And yeah, I called for help. Thought it was just a ghost, turned out to be a water spirit. A pissed off one too. That's her department. Took care of it in under twelve hours."

"Her department?" he repeats. "What, is she a specialist in all things water related or something?"

"Or something."

"Tell me."

"Ask her yourself."

Though pissed and wanting to press for me, Sam concedes and let's his brother forcibly change the conversation. If this girl doesn't give answers, he's going to kill him. Hell, he could be with Jess right now and panicking about that law school interview that Dean better get him to. Anything but driving to Jericho looking for his Dad who directly said he could never come back, and meet up with some chick about to be demoted to the backseat. This is just _great._

He spends the next few hours mentally preparing himself for the worst weekend of his life.

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Noel doesn't consider herself to be all that attractive, but she's the only thing around with two legs and no penis so it's a relief when the Impala finally shows up and Dean gets out.

When he approaches her, he says, "So you can take down a rugaru without blinking, but a bunch of overweight rednecks looking at you funny is what scares you?"

Now that he's here, the other men have stopped watching her. "Did the plaid shirt label me as a target or something?" she answers, looking away and back up at him. At five two, "looking up" is pretty much inevitable. And apparently Sam is even taller. The same Sam he talks about all the time and she's finally going to meet. "I mean, come on, I never get stared at this much. It's creepy."

He just rolls his eyes, that bastard. "Head to the car," he says. "My brother's there. I have to get a few things. Want anything?"

"Got everything I need," she says, holding up her coffee as an indication. Getting addicted to caffeine probably isn't the greatest decision she's never made. Then again, she's a lightweight and it's easier than drinking beer with Dean when he gets in one of his moods. "Oh, uh, did you tell him...anything?"

"Nope. Told him he has to ask you."

Oh, peachy. As if Dean _doesn't _know her qualms about that. She's still a little miffed that he pretty much drugged her to get it out of her, but it could've been worse. He could've killed her after all. "I'll see you in five," she tells him, and heads over to the car. She sees Sam before he sees her, looking down at something and sitting in the passenger seat. It takes a lot to get her nervous, but this is definitely doing it. Dean's basically her best friend and she was so antsy about finally meeting the brother he said was never coming back that she actually bothered to do more than throw on whatever clothes were closest today. Not too much though; still perfectly practical with good mobility and very little access fabric to catch anything.

She knocks on the passenger side window and he jumps, looking up at her. Even nervous, she can pull off a convincing smile and he relaxes a little as he opens the door and climbs out. Okay, so Dean wasn't lying about the whole height thing. Suddenly she feels very, very small. "You must be Sam," she says, still smiling, and sticks out her hand. "Noel Charming. Pleased to finally meet you."

Odds are Dean didn't say her full name either because that flicker of amusement passes over his brother's face. It isn't _her _fault her mom was weird. "Nice to meet you, too," he answers. His hand practically swallows hers. "So you've been working with Dean?"

"For a whole year and a half," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. It's short, and she can only get about half back. She knows he goes to college and wonders if she looks weird to him, a girl who neglects make-up and piercings and lets her hair air dry. "We met two summers ago. And, uh, since Dean's leaving me to explain it, we started working together because he got a job on the coast and I'm good with water, I guess you can say."

Before he can answer her, Dean returns. "That's an understatement," he says. "Sammy, meet your first ever demigod. Daughter of Poseidon. And here's breakfast since you refused it at the gas station."

Sam looks from his brother back to her, obviously trying _not _to openly stare and failing miserably. She twists, shooting Dean a glare. "So much for me telling him," she says.

He shrugs. "You'd take all day, Ellie -"

"Oh, shut up and stop being a dick."

"Ready to hit the road?"

Though still annoyed, she slips into the backseat, feeling strange but knowing shotgun belongs to the little brother. Hell, she went into this partnership perfectly aware that she comes at _most _third on the totem pole of importance - first was Sam, followed by his dad. His dad being the same John Winchester who would probably kill her if he knew the truth. It still surprises her that Dean just sort of accepted it, especially after she found out about how he was raised and that ideology. Thank god for Bobby Singer.

The feeling in the Impala is uncomfortable enough, but Sam makes it worse when he turns in his seat and says, "Dean's joking, right?"

"Nope," she says, having to stop herself from biting her nails. She keeps telling herself she's going to stop but it never seems to happen. "He and my mom got married, then had me three years later. You go to Stanford, right?"

Normally she's better at dodging the subject, but looks Dean keeps giving her through the rear view mirror aren't helping. "Yeah," he answers. "I'm a senior. Pre-law major."

They talk about college, and he tells her about his girlfriend and his classes and warms up to her a bit when she says she wanted to be a history teacher as kid and go to BC like her mom. Dean is notably relieved even though he _knows _she has pretty well developed people skills. Sam's easy to talk to, she finds, and so like his brother that it's actually kind of scary. She feels more confident in this whole situation as the ride goes on.

At two o' clock in the afternoon, they pass the sign for Jericho.

.

Once the law enforcement card is pulled, Noel tends to stand back about half the time and try to weasel out information by pretending to be a journalist or curious onlooker. It's harder for a woman to fake being FBI or Federal Marshall or anything similar because people tend to have this pre-conceived notion that females (especially short, young looking ones) can't be investigators. She still does it, of course, but right now she's satisfied letting the boys go off on their own while she questions the cop at the end of the bridge. Besides, this gives the two brothers time to get their training wheels back on.

"I told the last journalist," says the officer, looking in the direction of the abandoned, bloody car, obviously annoyed at being left on guard duty. "This is classified information. It could compromise the investigation."

She smiles, wide and innocent-looking. "I'm not a journalist, officer," she says again. "I'm a college student at Berkeley. My Crim-Civ paper's on ongoing investigations. I don't need the information or anything, but the process. C'mon, you can at least tell me that, right?"

At the age of twenty, it's the easiest thing for her to fake and she has false IDs for fifteen different universities. Cops aren't likely to check that the way they do outside law enforcement, which means she's less likely to get caught in anything than Dean - and now Sam, too. The officer crosses his arms. "Why didn't you pick somewhere closer to home?" he asks.

"Because everyone's already taken all the interesting ones," she answers, "and I figured leaving the general area would make it look like I tried more. I seriously want that A, you know?"

"What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't. Ellie Fitz, though. Nice to meet you, Officer...?"

The officer visibly relaxes. She doesn't know why, but names seem to do that to people. "Will O'Reilly. Just the process, right, Ellie?" he says, glancing in the direction of his boss. He seems like the youngest in the area, probably not much older than her. Unmarried, too. "Well, I guess I can do that."

The two boys head in the direction of the car and when Sam tries to move in towards her, Dean pulls him back. Though it isn't all that hard to get information when playing the college student role, it generally takes a little longer. "Thank you _so _much," she says with a relieved smile. "So where do you start?"

"Well, we generally try to find out who the vic is first," he says, "and if it's a local, that's usually pretty easy."

"So this is an everybody-knows-everybody type of town?"

O'Reilly nods. "I didn't know this kid all that well, but I at least know who he was. After that we call next of kin and the girlfriend or boyfriend if there is one. Question them, you know? Then a newspaper usually figures out a thing or two and it ends up in some article."

"Yeah," she says, "that where I'm getting most of my information to be honest. Anything in it wrong?"

He glances again at the bridge. "There's usually a detail or two messed up," he answers. "Like they spelled this kid's name wrong. It's actually -" He stops for a second, then continues, "Sorry, getting into classified again though, um, I'm sure you can get that from the town database. Not that you heard it from me or anything."

God, this is even easier than usual. Not that she's complaining. "It's fine, I get it," she says. "Uh, hey, this might seem weird but are there any stupid rumors going around about this?"

He gives her an odd look. "Like what?"

"Like a ghost did it or something. There've been enough disappearances in this town that _something _must've cropped up."

Looking even more confused now, the officer asks, "Why would you possibly want to know that?"

She shrugs, completely unabashed by her own curiosity. After all, she's just some nosy college kid. "Fluff for the paper," she answers. "It's supposed to be twenty pages minimum. You've got to know what that's like."

He laughs. "Yeah, I do," he says and leans against the support of the bridge, looking at her up and down. She wants to get out of here quickly, go find Dean. And Sam, she guesses, though she still isn't sure what the guy makes of her yet. "Uh, promise to put me down as an anonymous source?"

"'Course." Is that even allowed in college papers? It wasn't when she was in high school. "Why, there is one?"

O'Reilly smiles, all pleased with himself. "Well, you see," he says, "there was this woman a while back named Constance."

.

"It's a suicide, not a murder," says Noel, coming up behind them as Sam tries to high jack the computer. Dean turns around and she's holding out the notebook to him. "The sweet officer told me everything for my paper. Said I needed filler."

Sammy turns around and Dean takes the notebook, flipping it open. Noel's notes are all neat and organized like a real student's would be. His brother looks over his shoulder, reading. There isn't much but it's enough and that's what matters. "The legend seems kind of scrambled," he says.

"O'Reilly says people keep on making up new stuff after every disappearance, though he hasn't heard anything for this one yet."

"That's what the victim's girlfriend's friend said," Sam tells her, exiting the screen. "You seriously got all this from a cop?"

Ever since they met, Dean's been convinced Noel blushing is the funniest thing ever. It's just so damn easy. "Told you she was good," he says instead of her. "Looks like we better go back to that bridge."

An hour after they find the actual article to get the last few pieces of information, the three of them end up back on that bridge. It's dark, but the moon is full enough that they can still see. Noel's at the edge of the bridge in an instant, elbows on the wooden rail and leaning over the edge. Dean and Sam join her a moment later and he looks down at the churning water. Depending on where Constance jumped, it would've been the water that killed her rather than the fall. Sure, the bridge is high up, but he's jumped off cliffs for the fun of it at this height and came out fine and that was _before _he met the Little Mermaid here.

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, too desensitized to death by this point to care how normal people reacted. The water seems louder now than it did during the day.

Sam looks at him, gaze going straight over Noel's head. "So you think Dad's been here?" he asks.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." He pushes away from the edge, the sound of the river starting to irritate him. Dad's missing and he wouldn't let some ghost get a drop on him and Dean's trying desperately to ignore the way every instinct is screaming that they won't find him here. That he's long gone, whether by choice or not.

After a moment, his brother follows him and says, "Okay, so now what?"

"We keep digging until we find him. It might take a while."

"Dean, I told you, I got to be back by -"

"Monday," he says at the same time. Now that he's turned around, he can see that Noel's hanging back, eyeing them warily. There's about a fifty-fifty chance that this is about to explode and even though she's here, he doesn't want her involved. "Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer, marry your girl?"

"Maybe," Sam answers, which isn't what he wants to hear even though it's what he already knew. He knows his brother better than anyone else in the world. Surprise doesn't come easily. "Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you?" he says. "Know about the things you've done?"

"No, and she's not ever going to know."

He thinks about the girl he met in his baby brother's apartment, all long legs and curly blonde hair like some sort of model. So sweet and oblivious like those chicks he picks up in bars and so opposite their life that there's no way she'll ever know what fear really is. Even though he's entirely focused on Sam at the moment, he does catch the way Noel glances in the direction of the car. "Well, that's healthy," he says, irritation starting to take over and it's barely been twenty-four hours. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

"And who's that?"

"One of us." They shouldn't be doing this right now - they should be looking for Dad, save the arguing for the daylight when they aren't on the haunted bridge. This is how all those accidents happened when they were younger.

Now Sam is officially set off. "No," he says, moving into Dean's space, "I'm _not _like you. This is not going to be my life."

"You have a responsibility."

"Responsibility? To who, Dad? And his crusade?" His fingers twitch. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. So what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killer her, Mom's gone. She's not coming back."

And this is his snapping point, like it always is. He shoves Sam against the support beam, arm against his collar bone. "Don't talk about her like that," he says, though by this point he's not sure words really mean anything. He's said this about a thousand times since he was six and Sam learned how to ask questions.

Before he can say anything else, though, Noel calls, "Uh, guys!"

He turns, having completely forgotten she was there, and catches sight of Constance on the edge of the bridge, white dress dull. He moves towards Noel and Sam follows, keeping his eyes focused on the ghost as she moves her head, looking straight at them. Then she tips forward with no coordinated movement, plunging straight down to the river below. They run, bending over the side. He says, "Where is she?" automatically scanning for signs of a body even though she's a ghost and there won't be one.

"Gone before she hit the water," Noel answers, "so she's not down there anymore."

Even before she finishes speaking, the Impala's headlights turn on. Of all the things the damn ghost needed to possess, it just had to be his baby. Sam, like an idiot, says, "She's driving your car, isn't she?"

They run for about five seconds before he remembers that oh, yeah, they have a daughter of Poseidon with them. His brother spares a moment to look at them like they're completely insane before following them over the edge. Somehow Sam manages to cling to the railing, and despite knowing there's really nothing to be afraid of, there's still that sudden feeling of fear. As the water shoots up and propels them to the side, landing them safely on the muddy bank, the Impala stops running and Noel begins to shake.

"I hate heights," she says, hugging herself. "God, I hate falling."

He claps her on the back as he starts to head back up, seeing Sammy pull himself over the edge. "Everyone does, Noel," he says, and she just shoots him a weak glare. Makes sense, really, why she hates heights; according to her, it's ingrained into her system. Not quite a phobia, but a fight-or-flight reflex.

"Y-you guys -" Sam says when they meet up with him again, staring in shock. "The - water and, you're _dry_. What -"

With a smile, he answers, "I wasn't lying," and goes about checking his car. If Constance did _anything _to his baby, he's finding a way to kill her all over again.

"So you're really a demigod?" he hears his brother ask as Dean checks the interior. "How does that work?

"Same way you guys do. Should I give you a biology lesson?"

"Uh -"

After making sure everything's still in place, he comes around the side. "Car looks fine," he says, saving the two of them from a potentially awkward moment. "Fucking bitch."

"So where's the trail go from here, genius?" Sam says, tearing his eyes away from Noel who's starting to look uncomfortable. Though they've been working together for a year and a half, her whole parentage thing's only been discussed once or twice. From what he's managed to gather, it's not that she's embarrassed - it's that other hunters can be jackasses, too.

Instead of him, she answers, "We're finding a motel. That water's so polluted it actually hurt."

He feels fine. Freaked, but fine. Still, this isn't the first time she's said that and maybe he and Sam need some sleep in order to cool down.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Let's get out of here."

.

Dean's in custody and Noel is left alone with Sam, waiting on the hood of the Impala as he makes a fake call to get his brother out. In the bright midday sun, his eyes look green. As someone who's never had a sibling, it actually freaks her out how alike the two of them and makes her feel like she's intruding. This is a family matter but here she is, helping them find a man she'll have to be careful around for the first time since this partnership began, wedged in between two people who really don't need her there.

After he's done, Sam heads back over, car keys in hand. It's daytime, so Constance won't do anything, but they aren't taking any chances. "Let's go," he says, slipping back into the driver's seat like she actually needs to be told. Now it just feels weird, sitting shotgun again.

"We should talk to the husband," she tells him as he pulls back onto the main road. Because of the height difference, she practically looks like a child next to him. She wants to add _Dean will call_ but Sam's had him a full eighteen years before she even found him. "Do you want to come?"

He nods, focused on the road but not tense. She vaguely wonders what type of lawyer he'd be and thinks that he'd be good in criminal law. He knows all the tricks already and she doubts a human could ever really surprise him. "That's what I was planning," he answers and she doesn't miss the glance he sneaks her way. Not enough people know for her to be used to curiosity. "So, uh, where're you from?"

It takes a moment for to reply, too surprised by the decidedly normal question. "Jersey," she says. "Right up against the shoreline. The water there is nice and the school system was good."

"Did anyone ever -"

"Know that my dad was a Greek god?" He nods, seemingly embarrassed which is basically the same thing as polite for her. "No. Though honestly, enough water bottles exploded around me that you think someone would've figured it out."

Sam laughs. "Is that just a normal occurrence?" he says with a small smirk.

"Used to be," she says and he turns down the first of the many back roads they'll need to take. "Every time I get hyped up, water reacts. On the bright side, it all becomes holy water. Demons hate me."

"Do they have a hit out on you or something?"

She smiles uncertainly, not sure if he's joking. He's a lot like Dean, yeah, but really different at the same time. "I don't think so," she says, "but I do tend to have more run-ins than other hunters. Gods outside of Greco-Roman, too."

He nods and focuses back on the road which basically means he doesn't know how to react to that. Hell, _she _doesn't even know how to react to that and she's the one living it. In an effort to avert attention away from her, she asks, "How'd you meet Jess?"

Getting the conversation back onto the subject of college works and he tells her about the bar and some kid named Brady and how she spilled Coke all over his shirt within the first five minutes of talking. They keep on the track of higher education until they reach the dilapidated home of Constance's husband. As they exit the car, Dean calls her, tells her thanks for lying to the cops and when she says that Sam's the one who did it, she doesn't miss the note of pride her friend gets in his voice.

Yeah, she is so screwed.

.

There's enough water on the floor that Noel is able to build up force and push away the dresser. Dean gasps, relieved just to have air in his lungs but it's too late, Constance already screaming and fading away with her children. His shoes are wet and his socks feel soggy. He and Sam move forward to the place she disappeared from, and behind them his friend just sort of sinks to the ground, head in her hands. Water starts pooling at her feet.

"This is where she must've drowned her kids," he says, looking from the water stain to up the stairs where the children had appeared from.

Sam's breathing is a little heavy, a reasonable side effect from almost having his heart ripped out. "This is why she could never go home," he answers. "She was too scared to face them."

"You guys found her weak stop," Dean says, slapping his brother on the chest where his shirt is torn and walks around, back over to Noel.

His brother laughs. "Yeah, wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

Dean smiles just to hear him say that, but he's turned away so it's not like Sammy can see it. He holds out his hand, helps Noel up. For him and Sam, the top of the dresser hit them only a little above the waist, but it caught her in the ribcage. "Hey," he says, twisting slightly to look at his brother. "Saved your ass. How're you holding up there, Noel?"

"Fine," she answers, hand on the area that'll inevitably bruise. "Would've been easier if I wasn't smooched between the two of you."

He ruffles her hair just because he knows she hates it. "Your fault for being short," he tells her as she tries to fix the mess he creates. "Oh and, Sammy? If you did anything to my car, I'm going to kill you."

Even though he can't see his brother, he knows he rolls his eyes. "It's fine, Dean," he says, and he better be right because backing out of this house is going to be a bitch. "Besides, _you're _the one who shot the window."

"What other choice did I have?"

Before Sam can answer and start up another bickering match, Noel says, "We should probably head out before the cops start looking for you too hard, Dean," and chases the water away from the tires. "You know, if I sit in the driver's seat and put the car in reverse, you could probably push it out."

He looked to his brother, who shrugged. Impalas are old school cars - heavy, not as easy to move around as plastic, but with the two of them it should work. "Key's already in the ignition," he says, and she's inside, sliding over into the passenger seat. Even though they were never indefinitely together, they were enough and he'd only let her behind the wheel once because it was an emergency. She isn't a bad driver, but that doesn't mean she's perfect with stick. "You ready?"

"Yeah, push."

It's a group effort that doesn't take long or a lot of force and in no time at all, they're back on the road, heading to Stanford instead of Colorado because even after this trip down memory lane, _Sam _not_ Sammy _wants that normal, Apple Pie life.

.

Sam is vaguely aware of hands other than his brother's pulled him out of his room, away from Jessica who his mind is screaming at him that he can save. He's got the smell of burnt hair in his lungs and her blood on his forehead. There's still fire licking at the apartment walls, but Dean and Noel, he guesses, get him outside and down the stairs as the firetrucks first come around the corner. All struggle bleeds out to him and by the time they hit the cool November air, he's letting himself be dragged. The fight might be out of his body, but his mind is working itself into a knot, all thought lines leading directly to one white-hot emotion.

To put it simply, he's fucking pissed.

First Mom, now Jess and here's Dean, taking him to safety all over again. Suddenly he understand exactly what's been driving Dad for all these years and knows with absolute certainty that the only way to finish this is to find him. He's over to the car, not looking anywhere other than the trunk and the arsenal, trying to keep down his gag reflex.

"We've got worked to do."

In the background, his Apple Pie life goes up in flames.

.

Wow, okay, so apparently writing episodes makes word count really long. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
